


What If It's Us?

by IneffableHusbands95



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Aziraphale Is A Quick Learner, Crowley Is A Bit Of A Dick, Experienced Crowley (Good Omens), Fairy Tale Endings, First Time, I'm going to hell for this one, Loss of Immortality, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, True Love's Kiss, Virgin Aziraphale (Good Omens), Witch Curses, bookstore sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25647160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableHusbands95/pseuds/IneffableHusbands95
Summary: When Crowley gets on the wrong side of a certain witch he finds himself cursed with mortality, and his desperate quest to break the spell leads him to none other than Aziraphale.The pair discover the true nature of the feelings they hold for one another, share a passionate night together that shows the demon just how much he took for granted, and find an ending straight out of a fairytale.Porn with plot, angst and plenty of fluff.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	What If It's Us?

When the buzzing of his phone startled Crowley up into the air one evening, the last person he expected to receive a call from was Anathema Device.

Briefly his finger hovered over the ‘decline’ button, but he had been rather _bored_ since averting Armageddon, and decided that for the woman to interrupt his evening out of the blue it must have been important.

“What can I do for you today, Miss Device? This had better be good!”

The only answer on the end of the line was a sniffle, and he sat up straighter in his chair, muting the television with a wave of his hand.

“Anathema?”

“Newt and I have been trying for a baby for months now but have had no luck, so I went to the doctor today. I can never have children, Crowley.”

“That is indeed unfortunate for you both. My condolences.”

Silence.

“Thank you. But condolences are not going to give me a baby! They aren’t going to _fix_ me, are they?”

Crowley winced at the pain in her voice that even he could not miss.

“No, I suppose they aren’t” he replied.

“So, will you then?”

“Will I _what_?” he asked, frowning.

What else could she possibly expect from him?

“Will you fix me?”

Crowley dropped his phone and knocked over the half empty bottle of wine in front of him.

“Miracles are more Aziraphale’s area, Anathema. You of all people should know that.”

Another sob.

“Do you really think I would be fucking calling you if I hadn’t already asked him? He said _no_ , Crowley!”

Crowley raised a brow.

Aziraphale turning down the opportunity to make a mortal happy with an easy ten second miracle? Highly unusual.

“Did he happen to say why, by any chance?”

“Something about that sides or not, it wasn’t his place to interfere with _nature_ , or some crap.”

“Well, that’s angels for you. Forever fretting over morals.”

Anathema sighed.

“Are you going to help me or not?”

The longer Crowley thought on the question, the more determined he became to follow Aziraphale’s lead.

Fatherhood had never been on the cards for him as an immortal demon, so naturally he had never pondered the concept.

But, as he sat, he could not help but wonder what it might be like to have a child of his own.

While he and Angel had basically become adopted grandparents to Adam, it was not the same.

Was it not wholly unfair that only a few months prior, he and Aziraphale had literally saved the world, and yet he was forbidden the right to ever introduce a new life upon it?

Yes, he decided. It was.

“I’m sorry Anathema, but my answer is no. Medical miracles are…far too much fuss for my liking.”

A choked sound reached him.

“You’re going to regret this.”

“I very much doubt that” Crowley scoffed, and ended the call.

In the hour that followed something that could almost be vaguely mistaken for guilt nagged at him, so he downed wine until he couldn’t remember his own name and went to sleep.

The next morning Crowley’s return to consciousness was slow, and alarmingly painful.

Cursing, the demon gingerly pulled himself upright and hissed through his teeth.

His head pounded like a rather unpleasant drum, and suddenly even his dimly lit apartment was too bloody _bright_.

Was he _hungover_?

It simply wasn’t possible. In thousands of years he had never experienced so much as a twinge after drinking enough alcohol to kill a mortal five times over.

Blinking his vision into focus, he spotted his phone on the other side of the room, and lazily used a miracle to retrieve it.

Only nothing happened.

Several attempts later and still the device remained on the table.

When attempting to bring out his wings also failed, he gasped.

Wait. Was he _breathing_?

A shaky hand went to his chest.

A heartbeat.

Surging to his feet he stumbled over to his phone and ordered the presence of a very confused Aziraphale, who appeared at his door a half hour later looking very alarmed.

“Crowley? You look awful, dear boy!”

Crowley rolled his eyes, leaning wearily against the door frame, his hair sticking up.

“Why thank you, Angel. It’s called a hangover.”

Aziraphale laughed, his face contorting into confusion when Crowley didn’t join him.

“You can’t get hungover; you’re a _demon_ remember?”

“Not anymore, apparently!” Crowley hissed.

“What in Heaven’s name are you…” the angel started, falling silent when Crowley snatched up his hand and slapped it over his thundering heart.

“Dear me, that is odd” Aziraphale muttered, eyes wide.

“You’re telling me! My abilities are completely _gone_ , Angel! I don’t even have _wings_.”

Aziraphale gulped. “Would this be a good time to ask if you’ve looked at your eyes lately?”

Crowley whirled around to seek the nearest mirror, his jaw slackening when instead of his majestically terrifying snake eyes, ocean blue human ones stared back at him.

“Holy shit! What is _happening_ to me?” he cried, pacing around in a circle and grasping at the place between his shoulder blades where wings belonged.

Aziraphale grabbed him by the shoulders and held him still.

“Calm down, for goodness sake Crowley, and think. Has anything unusual happened to you recently?”

The demon stilled, and finally his blurry memories of the night before cleared.

“Anathema! That infernal Device woman did this to me after I rejected her, she must have!”

“Rejected her? What did she want from you?”

Crowley growled.

“Don’t play stupid with me, Angel. Your little secret is out; she already told me you said no to her too.”

Aziraphale grimaced.

“Ah yes, the infertility issue. What on earth did you say to her to bring this upon yourself?” he asked, eyebrows raised so high they disappeared into his cloud of golden hair.

Crowley rubbed at his throbbing temples and sighed.

“I said no, but wasn’t exactly as tactful about it as you were, to put it mildly.”

Aziraphale shook his head.

“Will you let me look at you? Perhaps I can reverse the spell.”

“I very much doubt that Angel, but I’ll try anything at this point” Crowley groaned.

“Lie down then, and I’ll see what I can do” he smiled at the demon, in an attempt at reassurance that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Crowley flopped down onto the sofa, staring up expectantly at the angel kneeling over him.

A strange sensation slithered through him at the closeness, but he shook it off too fast to dwell on it.

Aziraphale gently placed one hand on Crowley’s chest, and the other on his stomach.

“Is this really necessary, Angel?” he asked with a brow raised, eyes meeting Aziraphale’s.

“Do you want me to try to help you or not?” Aziraphale challenged.

Crowley rolled his eyes and pursed his lips, watching as the angel closed his eyes and his forehead creased in focus.

After five long minutes in their odd pose, Aziraphale withdrew his hands and shook his head.

“Sorry, dear boy, I tried everything I could, but something within you was constantly coming up to block my energy. Whatever she has done is far beyond my abilities; no miracle is going to fix this.”

Crowley closed his eyes, fighting to hold back the frustrated tears welling up within them.

“So, what do I do now?”

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment.

“The way I see it, you have two options. Either go and find Anathema and apologise for being so cruel, or just stay like this forever.”

“There is no way I am going to grovel to that woman. I’d rather die!” he spat.

Aziraphale tutted.

“Well then, I suppose you have your answer. If it’s any consolation, I like the eyes. They suit you.”

Crowley snorted bitterly.

Aziraphale went to the door but paused, turning.

“I…do have one other idea, but you will hate it, knowing you.”

Crowley sat up.

“What?”

Aziraphale cleared his throat.

“Well, I got to thinking about a book of fairy-tales that I was reading in my shop recently. In stories, curses like this one were often broken by… true love’s kiss.”

“You have _got_ to be kidding, Angel” he laughed bitterly as Aziraphale opened the door. “True love is nothing more than a foolish belief held by mortals to make their pathetic lives slightly less miserable.”

“It was only a theory, Crowley. Whether you act on it or not is up to you” he said with a sigh.

Crowley gritted his teeth.

He desperately needed this to be over so he could go back to sitting alone in the dark, being swallowed up by the emptiness inside him that he didn’t know how to fill.

Not that there was a chance in hell that he was ever going to tell Aziraphale that.

“What would you have me do, Aziraphale? Trawl through catfish on Tinder? Roam the streets begging women to love me?” he snapped, fists curled at his sides.

“If you are truly so attached to your pride that you will only do this the hard way, you will just have to figure that out on your own, won’t you?”

Crowley scowled, and before he could even get a word out Aziraphale had stepped out onto the street and slammed the door behind him.

The demon slid down the wall to the floor, pulled his knees up to his chest, and buried his face in his hands.

Crowley’s stubborn resolve to have nothing to do with any ridiculous ‘true love’ nonsense lasted all of two days.

For two days he had nothing but time, time to think.

Slowly, he began to realize that it wasn’t the thought of losing his wings that bothered him, it was the thought of losing something else, _someone_ else.

Aziraphale.

After six thousand years he had simply assumed that the Angel would be in his life for the rest of time. He had taken him for granted, failed to see just how much of his happiness was dependent on Aziraphale.

He had grafted himself to him like a rose dependent on its root stock to survive.

The thought of one day ceasing to be and leaving the angel behind was more than he could bare.

So, for an entire insufferable week, he found himself running all through the streets of London desperately chatting up and locking lips with every woman who would give him the time of day, which was humiliatingly few. He refused to even consider that this sudden lack of charm was credited to his stripped away power of temptation.

By late Sunday evening he looked like hell itself had chewed him up and spat him out.

Deciding enough was enough, rather than crawl back to his apartment to brood, which was very tempting, he dragged himself in the direction of Aziraphale’s shop.

“For the love of all that is good and holy, what _happened_ to you?” Aziraphale gasped when he answered the demon’s insistent pounding on his door, taking in Crowley’s terrifying appearance.

His flame red hair was sticking up in a dozen directions, bloodshot eyes highlighted by dark circles, clothes crumpled and askew.

Crowley could not help but notice how positively _radiant_ Aziraphale looked in comparison-hair perfectly coiffed, eyes glittering in the morning sun, a golden glow about his pale skin that the demon had never seen.

Had he always looked that good? Why had he never noticed before?

“Humanity happened to me.”

Aziraphale bit back a laugh, raising his hands in surrender when Crowley glared at him.

“Well are you going to come inside, or just stand out there in the cold? I can see you shivering, Crowley.”

Cursing his annoying new susceptibility to temperature, the demon nodded and followed Aziraphale inside.

Saying nothing Aziraphale pulled out a chair for Crowley before using a miracle to present him with a strong drink, and himself a cup of tea.

They sat and just stared at each other, neither man touching their drink.

Aziraphale’s mouth opened and closed a few times.

“Crowley, I…”

The demon frowned.

“What is it, Angel?”

Aziraphale tugged at his collar, and his cheeks colored.

“Something occurred to me. What if its… _us_?" he trailed off, not meeting Crowley’s eyes.

“What?”

Very slowly the angel rose from his seat, determination crossing his features, and moved to stand before Crowley, looking down at him.

Placing his hands on the arm rests of the chair, slowly Aziraphale leaned down until he was at eye level with him.

Crowley’s eyes widened, and his irritating mortal heart started to pound against his rib cage.

“Angel, what are you doing?”

They were so close now that he could smell Aziraphale, breathe in his heady cologne. 

“Trying something” the Angel whispered.

Slowly Aziraphale slid a warm hand up Crowley’s bare arm, leaving a blazing trail along his skin, before tracing the outline of his lips with a thumb.

“Do you trust me, Crowley?”

“Yes, Angel” the other man breathed into the slowly diminishing space between them, his lips gravitating towards Aziraphale’s of their own volition.

Aziraphale searched his eyes one last time before finally reaching out that last little inch to bring their lips together.

At the precise second their mouths touched, Crowley felt it.

His immortality returned to him in an all-consuming shockwave that made him gasp against Aziraphale’s soft lips, his legs going weak.

Aziraphale felt the surge of power too and growled, sliding his hands into Crowley’s hair and backing the pair up against a bookshelf as they kissed, all trepidation thrown to the wind.

They all but consumed each other, with a passion that could only come from a desire to make up for six thousand years of lost time, whimpering and gasping as they licked into each other’s desperate mouths in the moonlight.

Hastily Crowley peeled off his clothing and then Aziraphale’s until only thin underwear separated them, the way their matching bulges grazed deliciously against each other making both men moan.

In one fluid movement Crowley grabbed the angel by the hips, wrapping his legs around his waist as he carried him to a small sofa, and unceremoniously threw him down upon it.

Aziraphale gasped as Crowley climbed up to straddle him, rolling his hips to grind their erections together.

“Yes, Crowley, _yes_ ” he hissed out in a tone that sent a wondrously sinful shiver down Crowley’s spine.

The angel pulled his lips away from Crowley’s mouth and began to suck and nip at the side of his neck, eliciting a filthy moan.

Crowley slid down and began to lick a wet trail down Aziraphale’s body. He paused a moment to gently bite at each nipple as he went and smiled up at the angel when he reached the curve of his rounded belly.

“You are so fucking _gorgeous_ ” he whispered with a smile, pressing a kiss to his belly button before continuing lower.

When he reached the waistband of Aziraphale’s underpants he wavered uncertainly, feeling the weight of what he was asking to take from him.

“I _can_ wait, Aziraphale. We have eternity.”

Aziraphale shook his head fervently, smoothing his finger along Crowley’s jawbone.

“No. Six millennia is plenty of waiting. I almost _lost_ you, Anthony.”

Crowley smiled. Suddenly that chasm within him didn’t feel so deep.

Reverently the demon slid the only clothing left separating them down and off Aziraphale’s legs, revealing his full form.

Crowley wasn’t sure how it was possible for a cock to be elegant, but Aziraphale’s was, and he liked it. A _lot_.

Aziraphale followed his lead, and reached between them to discard Crowley’s own, and finally they were skin on searing hot skin from top to toe.

With a twitch of his fingers there was a small bottle in Crowley’s hands.

He popped the cap off and poured a generous amount directly between them onto their swollen members, closing his fist around both.

Both men’s hips bucked in delight at the friction, and Crowley captured Aziraphale’s lips between his for another scalding kiss as his hand twisted and tugged.

“Alright enough! I’m ready already!” Aziraphale pleaded against his lips.

Crowley stopped what he was doing and chuckled loudly.

“You really aren’t Angel, if we are truly going to see this through.”

The angel frowned, perplexed, so Crowley wiggled a few fingers at him for emphasis and grinned.

Crowley was going to enjoy this.

Aziraphale’s checks burned crimson, finally understanding.

“Ah, of course. As you were, then.”  
“Christ you’re cute.”

Still laughing, Crowley nudged Aziraphale’s legs open with his knee and reached down between their bodies to carefully apply some of the lubricant to the angel’s entrance, making him stiffen.

“Sorry. It’ll warm up in a second.”

He might have done that on purpose. Oops.

Looking down at Aziraphale, he slowly rubbed small circles around his entrance, smiling at the other man’s soft hum of approval.

Keeping his eyes locked on the angel’s shimmering blues for any sign of distress he gently pressed a digit inside, immediately met by resistance and hands grabbing at his back.

“Easy, Angel. Breathe. Or pretend to at least” he laughed, correcting himself.

Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley peppered his chest in soft kisses to distract him as he tried again.

“Fuck me!” Aziraphale cried out in surprise as Crowley’s finger finally slid all the way in, his toes curling into the sofa.

“I’m trying to, Angel” Crowley winked as he slowly worked his finger in and out before adding a second and resuming his task.

“Now?” Aziraphale asked desperately a few minutes later, after several deliberate hits of his prostate by a talented Crowley.

“Now” Crowley confirmed, with a snort at the impatience of the celestial writhing beneath him, slicking them both up.

Crowley lined the tip of his cock up with Aziraphale, then took one of his hands in his. 

“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked, voice husky.

Aziraphale’s only answer was to grasp Crowley’s hips and _push,_ making Crowley slide almost all the way in with a single thrust, and both men screamed out.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Aziraphale! How are you not in _pain_?!”

“Just _move_ , will you?” Aziraphale grinned.

Not needing any more convincing, Crowley began to thrust in and out of Aziraphale’s warm channel until he had built them up into a steady rhythm.

“You feel so bloody _good_ , Angel!” Crowley moaned.

Aziraphale’s hands flew up and grasped his ass, digging nails in deep for purchase, and Crowley growled.

For a moment he allowed himself to drink in the sight before him.

Aziraphale’s skin was glistening with sweat, his chest heaving, lips parted as he threw his head back against the pillows.

Somehow the man managed to make even sex look angelic.

“Harder!” Aziraphale ground out several minutes later.

Crowley adjusted his angle and thrust straight into his sweet spot.

“ _Crowley_!” Aziraphale cried out and clenched around him as he spilled between their bellies.

Crowley felt his eyes roll back and then he too was coming, deep within him, his vision fading out for a moment.

He fell back onto Aziraphale, gasping for breath he had forgotten he no longer needed, burying his face in the angel’s neck.

Aziraphale pressed a kiss to Crowley’s limp hair, and they just lay together for a moment, silent in the darkness.

“It was you. It was always going to be you, and I didn’t even see it” Crowley finally whispered, gazing down into Aziraphale’s eyes with all the adoration he could muster.

“You’re here now, and that’s all that matters” Aziraphale smiled, and kissed him.

Crowley nodded, then paused.

“I suppose I should probably apologize to Anathema now for being such a dick.”

Aziraphale laughed, stroking a stray auburn lock back into place.

“You really should, yes.”

“Should probably give her that miracle she wanted, too.”

Aziraphale smiled absently, and then frowned at him.

“Why didn’t you? You never explained.”

Crowley turned his face away from Aziraphale, ashamed.

“Because I thought I needed a baby of my own to be happy, and decided that if I couldn’t have one, then neither should she. It was disgustingly selfish. But now I know it wasn’t a child I needed; it was you. I needed _you_ , Aziraphale.”

Tears welled up in Aziraphale’s eyes.

“I needed you too, Crowley. More than I realized.”

Crowley curled himself around Aziraphale’s body, such is the nature of a snake, and slipped into sleep.

The next morning at eight o’clock the two men climbed into the Bentley and made for the homely cottage that Anathema and Newt had bought together.

“What if she won’t forgive me?” Crowley asked as they parked in the driveway.

“Then you accept that she has every reason not to.”

Crowley sighed, and they went to the door.

After five knocks, Anathema slowly opened it, and glared at Crowley so fiercely he began to sweat.

Aziraphale put a reassuring hand on his back.

“Anathema, you have every right to hate me after what I did, but I want you to know that I am so incredibly _sorry_.”

Anathema, who looked as tired as Crowley had the day before, adjusted her glasses and sighed.

“Thank you. I noticed you broke the spell.”

Crowley nodded, smiling over at Aziraphale lovingly.

“Yes, we did, and I can’t thank you enough for finally making me see what was right in front of me.”

The witch smiled despite herself.

“There is another reason for our visit, my dear” Aziraphale added, coaxing Crowley forward.

“Yes. We, or rather _I_ , want to put things right. If you still want my help, I’d be more than happy to.”

Anathema faltered slightly, grabbing onto the door frame.

“Do you really mean that?” she whispered.

“Yes of course” he smiled softly.

She hurriedly ushered them both inside.

“Lie down wherever is comfortable” Crowley instructed, and followed her over to a window seat.

Carefully he positioned his hand over her abdomen and shook out his shoulders.

“Will this hurt?”

“Oh yes, the pain will be excruciating. You may not survive.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale chastised, slapping him.

“Sorry, just a little demon humor. No, it will be fine.”

The process took no longer than a minute, and after staying for tea, the pair were wishing Anathema and Newt the best of luck and piling back into the Bentley.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale whispered, reaching out to turn the angel’s face toward him from where he sat in the passenger seat, stilling his hand on the steering wheel.

“Yes, my Angel?”

Aziraphale brought his lips down to Crowley’s for a short but passionate kiss.  
“I love you, Anthony J Crowley. More than a million books.”

The demon laughed.

“And I you, Angel. More than a million… _anythings_.”

Crowley’s darkness was now replaced with radiant light. Aziraphale’s light.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to extend a huge thanks to Emelye for their invaluable help in brainstorming this fic with me, and the encouragement I desperately needed.
> 
> Thanks also to Cacille_Blaas, for being amazing as always.


End file.
